


A Delectable Form of Defeat

by laurie_ky



Series: Moonridge Orgasm Anthology [3]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:46:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurie_ky/pseuds/laurie_ky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The real story behind the command, "Use the spray, Chief." </p><p>*"To be overcome by the fragrance of flowers is a delectable form of defeat."*<br/>Beverly Nichols. </p><p>Originally posted at 852 Prospect on: 02/21/09</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delectable Form of Defeat

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* * *

## A Delectable Form of Defeat

#### by [Laurie](mailto:holler@duo-county.com)

Author's website: <http://laurie-ky.livejournal.com/>  
  
Beta'ed by T. Verano. Thank you very much, indeed.  
Some lines are from Becky's transcript of the episode, "Pennies From Heaven."  
Written for Moonridge 2008  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Jim's stomach muscles had clenched when Blair had stumbled sleepily into the bathroom. He waited for the first tell tale signs... Oh, yes, Blair had commenced with his new morning habit. That was just swell; he tried very hard to ignore what his senses were reporting and concentrated on straightening up the loft. It wasn't working worth shit, though. He closed his eyes for a moment when he heard the bathroom door bang open and then involuntarily found his eyes tracking Blair, who was draped with an assortment of towels, as his roommate half sprinted towards the downstairs bedroom, smiling distractedly at Jim while attempting to dry his hair. "I'll be ready to go in about fifteen, man." 

Jim, who was wearing his apron to keep his clothes clean while he washed the breakfast dishes - actually, to hide his hard-on, but that was going to be his story if Sandburg said anything -- stifled a groan as the rich scent of his roommate wafted from the open bathroom door. Blair had taken to jacking off in there for the last several weeks, probably thinking that the shower he always took afterwards would remove the evidence. 

No such luck. The evidence remained evident. Maybe if the kid actually jerked himself off while _taking_ a shower, that theory would work, but with their ancient water heater, Blair most likely didn't want to chance his dick shriveling up when the hot water ran out and the cold, cold water stopped him from coming. Long hot showers were _not_ part of the daily grind around the loft. 

Christ. Talk about your rock and a hard place. Ever since he'd made that crack about Blair's fantasy dates keeping him awake - actually, up, and hard, but he couldn't say _that_ to his roommate -- Blair had moved all the action into his morning routine in the john. Nice atmosphere, but Sandburg didn't seem to mind, judging by the stifled sounds he made every damn morning. The kid was biting into a washcloth - gagging himself - until he splashed his come into another washrag. Jim knew because he'd seen and smelled the freshly rinsed washcloth and felt and seen the teeth marks in the other washcloth. Not that he was a voyeur, or anything. He just noticed these things when he did the laundry. And the scent of Blair's arousal and semen was all over the bathroom, and leaked out into the living room and kitchen and up to Jim's bedroom, carried around the loft by the steam from the shower. 

Fuck. He should have kept his big mouth shut and not made Blair feel self-conscious about lying in his own bed, the sheets rustling as he moved against them. Not that Blair had been loud, even then. The kid knew he was living with a sentinel and he wasn't trying to attract Jim's attention. 

Yep. In hindsight he should have left well enough alone, because while the scent of Blair's sticky spunk was strong in his room, it tended to _stay_ in his room. Jim had avoided going into Blair's space for that very reason. The bathroom, though, was common territory. Just walking into that small area after Blair's morning libido workout was enough to give him a boner of his own because the place was _saturated_ with Sandburg-scent. 

Yeah. Sandburg could get him hard. And that wasn't going to go anywhere, not the way the kid flirted with every woman he met. Which was a damn shame, because Blair was attracted to men, too. And to him. Ever since Jim'd been clued in on how the pheromone thing worked, he'd been able to read Sandburg like the funny pages. Except the laugh was on him, because knowing that Blair was attracted to him, but chose to pursue the ladies instead - well, it tended to make Jim want to bite the kid's head off sometimes. The jokes he made about Sandburg's dates - sour grapes. He knew it. The kid didn't, though. For such a smart guy, he was clueless sometimes. Sweet as sugar, but clueless. 

Sometimes, the scent would be too much, and Jim would go downstairs to the bakery for a while. Or he'd open the windows and let the smell of the ocean drown out the seductive scent of Blair Sandburg's arousal. But Jim was being careful not to leave a pattern that Blair would catch on to. Open windows - even when the weather was cold and rainy - every time Blair was in the bathroom fucking his own hand would be enough of a clue that even Mr. Clueless would be able to detect that there was a problem. Ellison in the living room with a boner - game over. In order to have _some_ fucking privacy Blair would want to move out. And then Jim would have lost. 

Christ. He'd have to come up with something so that he wasn't being tortured every morning. Or else give in and they could have a mutual jerking off session. Right. Blair in the bathroom, and Jim upstairs in his bed, breathing in pheromones by the bucket. Christ. 

* * *

Jim left the aerosol spray can on the back of the toilet. It was some kind of floral stuff that with any luck was going to mask the seductive Sandburg scent. He hoped that Blair would get the message and use the deodorizer in the morning. 

But... no. Blair apparently thought his shit didn't stink, because he'd ignored the spray. So now, Jim was going to have to pretend that he couldn't hack Blair using the john and insist that the kid use the spray to avoid offending Jim's delicate sensibilities. Hell, turning down his sense of smell was easy. But pheromones? The little suckers went to work sending 'check this out' messages to his sexual drive whether or not he'd spun the dial so that he couldn't actually smell them. It had been the first thing he'd tried when Blair set up the bathroom as his own personal love shack. 

Blair came out of his room and scurried for the door to teach his eight o'clock class. Jim waved his arm and beckoned Blair, who changed course and sailed over to where Jim was leaning against the counter. 

He felt like an ass, but he couldn't take much more of the early morning drenching of Sandburg lust. "Chief. Didn't you see the spray on the back of the john?" 

"What? I saw a can of something, but I figured it was yours so I didn't touch it. Honest, Jim. I never laid a finger on it. Hey, I've got to run; see you tomorrow - late, late night study date with Sweet Melissa." Sandburg started humming that damn Allman Brothers tune that Jim was starting to really, really hate, as he turned again towards the front door. 

"Chief, I want you to use..." But Jim was talking to himself because Blair had dashed out of the loft like his tail was on fire. 

* * *

Jim was out on the balcony checking the morning weather when Sandburg slid into the bathroom before Jim could have the 'little talk' on personal hygiene he'd planned to give the kid. It was going to be along the lines of _'I bought that can for a reason, Sandburg. Now do me a favor and use it after your turn in the bathroom'_. Hell, it was the truth. Blair would think it was for a _different_ reason than the actual reason, but it would work. No more putting up with smelling Blair's come. No more imagining the look on his partner's face when the kid came. Blair was probably already gliding his hand up and down the dick that Jim was getting so curious to see in person - time to pound on the door and yell at him to use the spray. But first, Jim had to answer the annoying, shrill tones of the phone. Who the hell called this early, anyway? It was either some girl for Sandburg or it was about the job. 

Jim was on the phone to Simon when Blair came out of the bathroom and he couldn't put the man on hold - it was too important a call, and though he made 'stay' motions at Blair, his roommate mimed back that he had to leave. So Jim was left trying to concentrate on Simon's details on the homicide case that had just been bumped up to Major Crimes, while the delicious bouquet of clean Blair scent, Blair arousal, and Blair come floated around his home. Fuck. He now had a hard-on while talking to his boss. _'Thanks, Sandburg.'_

Okay. He'd wanted to do the advice-giving in person, but a note would have to suffice; Jim wrote a succinct missive and taped it to the bathroom door. That should take care of the problem. 

* * *

Jim wanted to wring Sandburg's neck. The kid _had_ read the note, even chuckled about it as he went into the bathroom, but was he using the spray? Nope. Nada. Nothing. And the Sandburg-influenced steam was extra potent this morning. Jim opened the windows _and_ disappeared to the safety of the bakery, after calling to Blair to shut the windows and meet him in the truck. 

All right. No more Mister Nice Guy. He was going to insist that Blair use the spray, even if he had to tell Blair that after he had been in the bathroom, the place was ready to be labeled a toxic waste dump. 

* * *

"Uh... all I know is that when I open the bathroom door, I'm hit with this noxious wave, this odor, and all my nose hairs start to curl, and my eyes water." Jim was laying it on as thick as he could, as he drove his truck down the street, but he wasn't having the hoped for effect, because Blair was laughing. 

"Obviously, we're going to have to do some work on your senses." Blair didn't act concerned about his roommate's complaint; he evidently saw Jim's problem as another way to test the sentinel senses. Great. Yippee. 

"Just use the air freshener, okay, Chief?" _Before Jim was driven over the edge and he dragged Sandburg into that messy little bedroom to have sex - like he'd almost done with Laura in that closet. He fucking hated pheromones._

Jim was distracted from mentally listing all the ways pheromones had screwed him over by the voice of the dispatcher crackling over his radio, asking for all available units to respond to a report of a major disturbance at an accident at Grand Avenue and Holton. Time for him and Sandburg to earn their paychecks. Well, his paycheck, anyway. He reported back that they were en route to the scene with the spilled cargo, flipped on his lights and siren, and told Blair to hang on. 

* * *

The next couple of days Jim was pretty tied up with the counterfeit money case, but he found time to remind Blair that the spray was in the bathroom to be used. Blair did use it - once - which was no help at all since he tested it in the evening. The kid had come out of the bathroom muttering to himself about natural products. Which made more sense when Jim found that Blair had scattered small blocks of cedar on the bathroom floor. 

The next morning, Jim ended up fantasizing about making love to Blair while they were camping in the mountains. The 'all natural cedar wood deodorizer' was an absolute bust in the disguising-Sandburg-spunk department. He made up a story about getting splinters in his foot from stepping on the wood, and urged Blair to use the spray. 

Blair finally got with the program the following morning; he used the spray. Jim was relieved - until the wildflower scent of the deodorizer mingled with Blair's scent and Jim practically had a vision of fucking Blair in a meadow. Christ, the Sandburg scent of arousal wasn't just seducing him, it was overpowering every product for improving the air quality in his home that he'd tried. 

Jim had one more weapon in his arsenal. He made a special trip to the store, still limping from the drumming he'd gotten during the free-for-all fake money case. He bought a can of his last resort and set it in the bathroom. Tomorrow was do or die day. If this didn't work, he was giving up. Throwing in the towel. Running up the white flag. Surrendering his sword to Sandburg. Hell, Blair could be relentless when he wanted something, especially when he wanted something from Jim; Jim just hadn't realized that quality of Sandburg's was true down to a molecular level. 

He wondered, though... who was Sandburg fantasizing about as he stroked his cock and bit into his terrycloth gag? Probably somebody female. Possibly somebody male. Potentially... Jim. 

If and when the kid's dissertation was completed and there weren't any more restrictions between researcher and subject - yeah, Jim _had_ read the fine print on the human subject form Blair'd had him sign - then maybe Blair would make a move. Which didn't give Jim much relief now from the relentless onslaught of the Sandburg pheromones. God, he hoped the Lysol spray would work. Nothing flowery or woodsy about that stuff. It was a really heavy-duty smell destroyer - no way would he have some erotic daydream about Blair while Lysol circulated through the loft, smothering Blair's scent into submission. 

* * *

He took it back. He took every last syllable back. The only thing the Lysol had done was shift Jim's hard-on fantasy from a rural setting to Jim on his knees in the freshly mopped bus station restroom, with Blair sliding his dick in and out of Jim's mouth - the fucking little tease. This was it. He was done. But damned if he was going to have sex in the god-damned bus station restroom, even in his daydreams. Jim threw open every window in the place, including his skylight, and decided he was going for a walk in the fresh air before leaving for the bullpen. He scribbled a note about being back in twenty minutes for Blair, who'd ducked out of the john for his small bedroom, leaving the bathroom door wide open to let the steam out. Christ, he needed some air. 

* * *

Jim put the Lysol under the kitchen sink that night. There was peacefulness in accepting the inevitable. Tomorrow morning would be the start of a new routine with Sandburg -- even if the kid didn't know it. He broke the news to Sandburg as they were washing up the dishes. 

"Chief, I think it would work better from now on if you took your shower first in the morning. That way I can police the bathroom before we leave so there isn't a mess to deal with when we come home." 

Blair eyed him but then shrugged. "Okay. I don't mind going first, but I thought you needed a gas mask or something after I've been in the bathroom. I noticed you moved the Lysol." Blair looked hopeful. "Want to give the cedar blocks another try?" 

"No, Darwin. I tried turning the smell dial down and that took care of the problem," Jim lied through his teeth. "So set your alarm a little earlier, all right?" Blair nodded agreeably - shit, he was an accommodating guy - and Jim relaxed. He was going to bend an unspoken agreement between roommates tomorrow, but that was the fault of the Sandburg spunk. 

* * *

Jim lay on his bed and extended his hearing, focusing on the quiet din Blair was making in the bathroom. There were some sleepy sighs, and the brushing noise of Blair cleaning his teeth. Then came the sound of Blair stripping off his t-shirt and boxers. Jim dialed up more and heard the first slide of hand on skin. 

_'Here we go,'_ and Jim felt a guilty twinge for deliberately listening to his roommate beat his meat. Still, a little guilt made the sin more delicious. He moved his own hand over his cock, in time to Blair's rhythm. He imagined he was in the bathroom, watching Blair close his eyes, watching his roommate's clever fingers play with the head of Blair's dick, watching Blair's face and chest flush up, watching the kid's cock get full and hard and a purplish-red. Blair's hand was setting up a faster tempo, now. He matched Blair for speed and closed his own eyes. But he wasn't going to come when Blair did. No, he was going to go for the grand finale. 

The sounds escaping from Blair's mouth became muffled -- he had gagged himself; Jim visualized Blair with his mouth kept forcibly quiet. Christ, that was a hot image. Sweet Blair, who ran his mouth on every subject under the sun, unable to do anything but moan and grunt for Jim to pay more consideration to his stand-at-attention cock. Just for good measure, he'd have Blair's hands tied to the rail, as he squirmed with need while he lay here on Jim's bed. _'Someday, that will be real.'_

Downstairs, Jim heard Blair come and the quick, skillful hands slowed down to petting and soothing speed. Blair started the shower and Jim idly stroked his own dick. Waiting. Like the previews in the movie theater, Jim was getting small tastes of the steamy mingled scents Blair's body was so good at concocting. He imagined how tied-up Blair, gagged and tied-up Blair, would react when Jim had scented every inch of his body. Blair's eyes would look so black, dilated in arousal, as he watched Jim smell the musky scent from his groin, and he would whimper as Jim scented his neck. Yeah. Blair would be one needy boy and Jim would revel in keeping him in that state. It was only fair. Blair had been torturing him for weeks now, every morning he disappeared into the bathroom. And the main feature was about to get started. 

Blair opened the bathroom door and clouds of steam - Jim dialed up his sight so he could see the moisture-laden messages from Blair's body - rolled right upstairs to his bed. With no wall to impede their progress, Jim was covered before Blair had even gone into his own room. He breathed deeply, letting his body take in the pheromones, hormones and any other 'mones that were in that particular soup. He was going to enjoy this. Yes, this was a little kinky, and way over the respect-your-roommate's-privacy line, but hell, he'd tried to fix the problem and it wasn't fixable. Not unless Blair moved out and that was _not_ happening. 

He returned to the image of Blair, tied and helpless against Jim's touches, gagged and imploring with those big, blue, puppy-pleading eyes of his, as he writhed on Jim's bed. Jim would tantalize the kid by talking about which way to bring him off; should he give him a hand job, or suck his dick, or maybe put his legs over Jim's shoulders and take him so he could watch his eyes when Blair erupted? How about rolling him over and fucking him doggie-style? Despite the muffled, desperate sounds he made, the kid would have a hard time communicating because his hands would be stifled by his restraints, and with that gag in his mouth he'd be unable to voice his choice, so... Jim would get to choose. This time... he'd choose to touch Blair with his hand. 

He'd get Blair so worked up the kid would practically be crying from the need to come. Then he'd whisper to Blair what Jim required from him - commanded from him - so Blair could orgasm. Blair would nod his head emphatically, and when Jim removed the gag, the kid would be beautifully compliant, chanting 'Jim, Jim, Jim,' till Jim ran one finger up and down the kid's cock and Blair would come explosively. 

Like Jim just did. 

* * *

"So, Jim..." Blair was standing by the kitchen table stuffing books into his backpack while Jim finished drinking his coffee. " You seem much more relaxed this morning. Staying in bed a little longer seems to have agreed with you. But me going first in the shower? You sure that'll work for you?" 

Jim rinsed his cup and ambled over to his roommate. He reached out and ruffled the curly hair, smiling at the annoyed and tolerant expression on Blair's face. 

"Yeah, Chief. It's going to work just _great_." 

* * *

End 

A Delectable Form of Defeat by Laurie: [holler@duo-county.com](mailto:holler@duo-county.com)  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 

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